The Breaking Point
by DreamingAmerican
Summary: Everyone has a breaking point. And Alfred Jones, America, never thought he would have reached his. Maybe it was because of the insults that he used to brush off as a joke. Maybe it was because of his human-like emotions and that fact that he couldn't keep up the hero facade. But when everything comes crashing down, Alfred spirals into things he didn't think were possible.
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! I in no way own any of the characters of Hetalia, they belong to their rightful owner Hidekazu . I simply own the plot of this story.

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><p>World meetings. Something Alfred grew to hate, something he found to be a waste of his time. He could be doing better things...like working out and running. He didn't see the point of getting up earlier and flying out to wherever it may be, only to face them. Them...with their judgmental eyes and venomous voices. Them...his fellow nations, his friends and those who were once enemies. Them...those closest to his heart who didn't realize, didn't see how their poison filled words tore him apart...how their words carved and dug themselves in his mind and grew a rotting tree with thorny branches.<p>

And yet..he hid all the pain and continued on with his day. He continued on despite the insults that day, the apparently innocent jabs at his weight, at how stupid he was, at his country, at how he couldn't pay attention. At everything...every little last flaw. But he couldn't pay attention, his head was swimming with thoughts. Dangerous and negative thoughts. He needed to get out...he needed get away. As soon as the meeting was dismissed he ran to his car. He sped to his home...his safety point. The one place he could take off the porcelain mask of the hero figure he claimed to be. But it wasn't enough...he needed a distraction. Something to help take away the building pain that wrapped around his heart. The pain that threatened to crush him.

So he ran...he sprinted. He continued running through the busy streets of the city. Passing people with laughing and smiling faces. He passed those who stared at him...all of them judging him. Looking at him because he was fat...because he was ugly and worthless.

'_Look it's that fat American kid...I wonder how many burgers he ate today_.' He thought bitterly to himself. They had to be thinking that...it was what everyone else thought.

His lungs begged and pleaded for air, his body dizzy and exhausted from the seemingly endless running. Alfred suddenly turned into an alleyway...and ducked behind a dumpster. His head pounded and he felt like throwing up, emptying his stomach if whatever he had eaten. He leaned against the cool brick wall of the building as he tried to kept his breath, as he shakily inhaled and exhaled. And all at once he started crying...it came out in choked sobs, as his eyes became bloodshot and tears streamed down his sweaty face. It hit him all at once...he was worthless. No one cared. No one knew. He was just a _complication_...a _unfixable complication._


	2. Chapter 2

Hello everyone! I in no way own any of the characters of Hetalia, they belong to their rightful owner Hidekazu. I simply own the plot of this story.

I do have a poll for this story up. If your interested, it does affect the story, please check it out.

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><p>Alfred wasn't sure when he had picked himself and walked home, everything was hazy. He was locked in a zombie-like state, his body only going through the motions. Upon getting inside his house, Alfred slipped off his shoes and walked into his room. He dug around in his dresser drawers, which were decently organized, and grabbed a black tee and a pair of sweats.<p>

He sighed as he walked over to the bathroom. The white lights next to the mirror seemed to give the room a eerie glow. It made his skin look pale and make the puffiness around his eyes appear to be worse then what then it was. He stood still for a while, just staring back at his reflection. There was no evident emotion on his face, but it contrasted greatly to what he felt inside.

Words rang and echoed in his head. **Teasingly. Tauntingly, harshly**.

_Disgusting. It's absolutely disgraceful how disgusting you are. Just look at yourself. _

Alfred slowly turned so he could see his stomach and sides in the mirror. He slowly slipped off his shirt and let it fall to the floor. His hands pinched and picked at what they could grab, leaving faint red marks along his body. Maybe he was disgusting...after all he could pinch a bit of fat...it wouldn't be that hard to lose, right? It would just be a few pounds.

_See, look at all that fat. England was right, everyone was right. Maybe you should listen to them, but you're too big of an airhead..._

Alfred frowned, and his hands gripped the marble sink. He bit his lip until he tasted blood. He was smart...he had won a few wars. Sure he didn't act the brightest during meetings, but they were boring and silent when there wasn't someone to cause commotion. Silence was bad...it allowed him to think. And when he thought...it was things like these. He couldn't drag people down or worry them, but then...why was acting like an idiot any different.

_It isn't. You just really love this idiot act. You dress like one too. You're such a slob Alfred, it's rather disappointing to see how all you can do is hurt everyone. You destroy everything you touch...and its sad. You always hurt England by being rude and insulting him. You ignore your brother. You rarely talk or try to be nice to Russia. You always hurt everyone. No one needs you. Honestly, people would be better off witho-_

A loud shattering broke the rant inside his mind. A sharp pain spreaded through his right hand. Alfred blinked a few times before a small gasp stumbled past his lips. He had mashed the bathroom mirror with his hand. Shards of glass dug into his hand and he slowly pulled it into his chest, blood starting to drop out of the wound. He looked into the cracked mirror...the image of himself was distorted and bent. Alfred decided he liked the way it looked a lot better then what he saw before.

However, what he like better then the broken mirror was the feeling in his hand. The pain had turned to a dull numbness and it was spreading through his entire body. It felt good in a twisted way, it took the pain away. He quickly changed and discard the white shirt with drops of blood. Alfred bent down, and slowly grabbed a larger piece of the mirror that laid scattered along the floor. He held it in his hands, very delicately, and walked out of the bathroom. He left the mess behind and waked over to his drawers. He hid the glass under clothes, deciding it keep it as a souvenir, maybe something more. He walked over to his bed, and collapsed. He tangled the blankets around him and kept his hands pulled into his chest.

He quickly fell asleep, the pains of earlier and the broken mirror monetarily forgotten.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own Hetalia. It belongs to its rightful owner, Hidekaz Himaruya.

Current Poll Results:

Usuk: 3

Rusame: 2

Ameripan: 1

Morning came too quickly, and a loud ringing broke the silence that seemed to swallow the dark room. A hand slowly stretched out from under the safety of the warm blankets and struggled to find the alarm clock. The palm of his against pressed against the clock, effectively earning a hiss of pain from the American. The cuts were very recent, and still stung. They need to be cleaned or it would just become more of a hassle. Once the ringing stopped, a soft sigh and the rustle of blankets could be heard.

With a soft groan Alfred pushed himself out of his bed. He moved slowly across the room careful not to trip over or bump into anything. He finally located his closet, despite it being dark. He simply did not want to open the blinds. The darkness felt oddly comforting, but at the same time he still felt like he needed light. He flipped on the light switch, and squinted his eyes tried to adjust to the sudden change. He grabbed a suit a carried to the bathroom.

A world meeting was planned, and Alfred desperately wanted to play sick...but he was hosting it. He He glanced at his phone before quickly setting the suit on the sink as he brushed away the broken glass. Alfred frowned as he threw the glass away, which shone it the lighting of the bathroom. Almost teasingly, the sharp edges catching the light. He quickly undresses and stepped into the hot shower, allowing himself to relax. If this meeting was to go how they normally went, he'd need to be as calm as possible.

Alfred wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower, warm water dripping from his hair. He looked into the broken mirror, unable to see anything but a distorted image. He looked down at his stomach and pinched the fat.

_Terrible, awful, stupid fat. There was so much of it. So much...may be he shouldn't and grab a burger today...or coffee. Coffee has fat, calories, sugar. It's bad, it's no good. He wouldn't have any of it until he was healthy_.

**Alfred swore on this.**

The only thing the greeted Alfred when he opened the door to the meeting room was pure silence. He turned on the lights, the soft hum could now be heard. He walked over to the closet and unlocked the door as he pulled out chairs to start setting up. The numerous chairs trenches around the long oval table. The next thing he focused on was setting up the projector and then his laptop. He sat down, adjusting the glasses that slid down his nose, and pulled up his notes. He read over them, and continued to release. They had to be perfect, they had to.

He kept his head down as he heard people walked in. The accents were instantly recognizable. French...and British. A pang of what some would consider jealous flashed through Alfred. Although he brushed it off.

_What were those two doing together?_

Alfred looked up as he felt someone tap his shoulder. A grumpier voice filled his ears and Alfred sighed.

_"Could you at least greet your guest America? It's terribly rude to ignore them,"_ Said owner of the voice leaned over his shoulder to look at what the American was doing. _"Are you still doing your notes?! Bloody hell Alfred, get your notes done before you play video games! And don't stay up all night either! You look terrible." _

Alfred inwardly flinched at the comment. He bit his tongue, holding back a snippy reply. He did not need an argument before the meeting actually started. Thankfully, whether it was because it was pure luck or something else, France slung his arm around the Brit and dragged him towards were the coffee and refreshments. He heard the protest, and was glad he wasn't being snapped at. However, he mulled over the three word phase that bothered him.

He looked terrible. He didn't even do anything and he already upset the British man. A smile quickly plastered it's way onto his face as everyone else walked in. Since he was hosting, he had to speak first. Alfred hid the nervousness as he opened his power slide, and connected to the projector. Talking was the easy part. He started explaining the economy, his debt...a touchy topic. It was all doing fine until people started speaking up. Add in comments here and there. People were getting fed up with his silly ideas...and he owed everyone so much...he was trying. He really was.

_'When are you going to pay me back, aru?' _

_'Bloody hell America, your spending is out of control! What do you use all that money for anyways?' _

_'Where's your burgers America? You always have so many. I'm hungry. Your airplane food is unhealthy. Not to mention it taste bad.' _

_'Your cities are filthy. Have you ever considered to try to improve anything? Not to mention...you're people are so rude?' _

And so it continued. Alfred's hands started shaking and he gave a sharp laugh to hide the fact that he wanted to cry.

He quickly finished the rest of his power presentation before he rushed to his seat. Others went on to talk, and Alfred struggled to pay attention. He couldn't focus. So much for doing better. He was a failure.

The group broke for lunch. And as everyone went off to the cafeteria, no one questioned why Alfred rushed off in the other direction towards the bathroom.


	4. Chapter 4

Super sorry for the late update. It's a slightly shorter chapter, but I promise Chapter Five will be longer. As for the pairing I think I'll have both Rusame and Usuk, but it might just eventually end up as one of them. Anyways I hope everyone had a good holiday weekend, and I don't own Hetalia. It belongs to its rightful owner, Hidekaz Himaruya.

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><p>It was only then did Alfred allow his true emotions to show. Only when he was locked in a bathroom stall, his forehead leaning against the cool tiles of the wall, as he tried not to throw up whatever was currently in his stomach. He took in sharp breaths of air as he tried to calm himself down, because he couldn't go back out there acting like a mess. He couldn't go out and sit down at lunch, to shove a hamburger down his throat and ramble on about stupid things. He just couldn't.<p>

Maybe he could just sneak out of the building and not come back. He wouldn't look back and he wouldn't hesitate, he would just get up and leave because it seemed to be meetings went better when he said nothing. It all was better when he was silent. It would be the same if he wasn't there. And he quietly wondered if anyone would miss him, or be slightly concerned. Because Alfred never just disappeared... He was always there with something _stupid_ to say.

Of course...maybe just deep down he knew, he believed, that no one would miss him. And the thought of that really bothered him. No one cared. No one cared how much their words hurt, how they stabbed into him veins, injecting their virus of torment into his body. No one cared as they stepped back and watched it slowly destroy him piece by piece.

Everything was too overwhelming and Alfred couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They steamed down his face, leaving small trails of salty water behind. He slowly sunk to the floor, his back resting against the wall as he buried his face in his hands. And he continued to cry, without making a sound because he didn't need anyone to hear him. His chest was too tight and the sobs seemed to be stuck in his throat. It's seemed so difficult to breathe and he felt exhausted. Laying down and just sleeping sounded...nice.

His held his breath when he heard someone enter the bathroom, he waited until he heard the click of a lock. He quickly rubbed his eyes and stood up, before slowly leaving the stall and walked over to the sink to turn on the cold water. Cupping his hands, he allowed the water to gather in his hands and splashed it on his face. He repeated the process a few times until he heard a familiar accented voice, a pair of amethyst eyes studying him.

_"Amerika...everyone is waiting for you. You're delaying the meeting."_

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><p>Of all the people he had to happen to run into, why did it have to be Ivan? Not that he considered the man a horrible person, but it was someone he didn't exactly get along with. It was surprising they weren't at each other's throats at all during the meeting. He gave him a mutual expression, not a smile and yet, not a frown.<p>

"Ivan." He greeted, and turned to face him watching the man's movements. Alfred only side-stepped when the Russian made his way to the sink. He glanced at himself in the mirror before walking towards the door and began to push it open when he felt a hand wrap around his wrist. He went to pull his wrist away, but the grip was strong.

"Let go! What are you-?!" Alfred question was cut off when he felt and hand lift his chin up. Blue eyes clashed with amethyst as their gazes met. One was a glare, the other held a steady gaze yet...with an underlying emotion.

_"Amerika, if you are not careful with your sudden disappearing...you might start to worry someone." _Ivan paused, and Alfred didn't move. His breath seemed caught in his throat and he couldn't find the words to speak.

_"Especially if it's because you went off to cry." _


	5. Chapter 5

Hello! I hope everyone has been doing well. As of now I think the main paring will be Rusame, possibly with a little Usuk or one-sided Usuk.

I don't own Hetalia. It belongs to its rightful owner, Hidekaz Himaruya.

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><p>It had been over a month ago that the incident with Ivan occurred. He hadn't spoken of it to anyone, nor had he even attempted to talk to the Russian in any way, shape, or form. In fact most of the month had been spent alone. Not that it was such a bad thing, it was just lonely. Although it gave him a lot of time to think over a few things. Actually a lot of things. And he decided that he needed to change.<p>

Change could be a good and bad thing. Fixing flaws that others see was a good thing. Especially if he trusted in their word and came to see those flaws as well. Well that's what he believed. Thoughts and opinions could become twisted and misguided within minutes. They could be used as weapons...a constant poison being fed to the host. And those guilty of making the poison...weren't even aware of what they were doing. It was sad and pathetic. They were nations not humans, and yet they still had the same flaws their people did.

In the process of a month...a lot of things had changed about the American.

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><p><em>The first thing to change was his smile. <em>

The smile that everyone knew so well. The one that seemed to be make of platinum gold. It was one that could light up a room and was so constantly present on his face. No matter the situation. No matter how dreary or hopeless things could seem, he was always smiling. It was what made Alfred...well Alfred.

And it suddenly disappeared. He'd smile kindly at strangers that he'd pass on the streets. He'd smile when he found things funny or when someone said something nice. But it wasn't always real or true. It was a softer smile with a gentle expression. Only a short uplift of his lips that would stay for a few seconds. It would fade and be replaced by a neutral expression. He didn't look happy or sad...if anything it made if difficult for those to determine what he was feeling.

_It was followed by his expressions and his gestures. _

Alfred was known for always showing how he felt. His hands would wave wildly and he'd jump a lot if he was excited or if he would happen to run into someone he knew. When he was angry his hands would clench into his and his eyes would hold anger. He'd hide his face if he was upset or would just push through it. He'd never cry...not in front of anyone. And rarely alone.

In current situations he only reacted with calm words and the occasional movement of his hand. He stopped shouting and acting wild. He'd occasional huff in agitation, or would frown momentarily. He seemed to cry a lot easier, usually bitting his lip to hold it in. He explained with words more so then anything else. He rarely seemed angry, or annoyed...he'd just give a polite explanation as to what was going on and would go from there.

_The next thing to change was his love for food and video games._

He was someone who could spend hours on end playing random games with complete strangers. They'd usually strike up a conversation while they played, just talking about random and silly things. He enjoyed playing games...where there were no limits or rules...no end to the possibilities. As much as he loved games, he probably loved for more. It didn't really matter what culture it was from or how it was made, he still would eat what he happened to order. Although if anything, he didn't see why people got on him about eating burgers.

His games had been replaced by running shoes and workout gear. Hours of what used to be video games would be indoor and outdoor workouts. He started packing in nearly hours of running each day. He would run alone, usually listening to music as he did so. He started considering to try and run marathons, although he wasn't close to being in shape for it. He avoided restaurants and fast food places as often as he could. He seems to suddenly dislike anything sweet. He only drank water or tea, and if anything had calories...he counted them. Breakfast became a occasional thing, him believing he didn't need it. Measurements of his waste and arms and thighs were scribbled down in a food journal that he kept next to the scale in his room.

The pounds slowly started dropping. One pound, then five, then ten...but it wasn't good enough. He needed to lose more. He needed to drop down more then a few sizes. A extra mile wouldn't kill him, maybe skipping lunch as well wouldn't. He was basically immortal...right?

_In the process of a month, he became a different person. Less expressive and noisy. Less annoying and more respectful. But things can only be kept inside before they want out._

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><p>The schedule seemed to repeat itself. The annoying ringing of his alarm clock successfully waking the American up. He'd set up, moving the covers off and would shut the alarm off. It was only 6am.<p>

After making his bed he would pick out his clothes and change into them. Usually running pants and a loose long sleeve top, the helped to hide the fat the he and others could see. He'd walk over to the scale and would check his _absolutely horrendous_ weight. It would only be added to the other numbers in the small book beside the scale. He'd go to the bathroom and brush his teeth and fix his hair, the normal daily hygienic things.

It wouldn't be even near six thirty before he would out of the house, forgetting to eat breakfast and already running. He had his normal routes that he would run. The streets would tend to be empty and quiet, the only noise was his music. But things don't always go as planned.

While running on what he knew happened to be his fourth mile, he was currently crossing the street. He must have been lost in thoughts because he hadn't seen the light change. Car lights flashed before his eyes and he heard the screech of breaks, the driver desperately trying to stop. He felt himself being lightly nudged by the car and following over. For a moment he met the driver's worried gaze. An all too familiar one. Before the man could get out of the car, Alfred pushed himself up and took off sprinting in the other direction. He heard someone shout his name but he kept running.


	6. Author's Note

Authors Note

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><p>Heh, hello guys. I do apologize for not updating in...forever. I'm swamped in school work and sports. I have practice 5 days a week and am participating in extra training to get ready for track and field events and my spring sports. So I practice for about 2-4 a day. I usually don't get home from school until nearly 8pm. It's far too exhausting to try and balance this and my personal life. I can't afford to get over stressed and break down. However I do promise that this story will be continued, and as well as a new one will be posted soon.<p>

I am sorry for the long wait but I have writers block no I want to have an idea as to where I want to take this story, as well as making sure what I'm writing is accurate in the problems Alfred faces. If anyone wants to give suggestions..feel free to do so.


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